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being of the countries where Providence has placed them. These, however, are not all; Vultures are the constant attendants of armies on their march, or in the field of battle. In barbarous countries the horrors of war (always calamitous and revolting) are unmitigated by those usages which subsist between civilized nations, even during the strife of blood, and there is no lack of food for the Vulture. Who will volunteer to inter the corpses in the sacked villages, which unhappily lay in the route? who after the battle will bury the slain? There, as in the days of Homer, may the mangled bodies of men and horses lie "unburied on the naked shore;" but down come multitudes of Vultures, wild dogs, hyenas, and other beasts of prey, thronging to the common feast from every part of the country,

"All regarding man as their prey,

All rejoicing in his decay."

The Vulture is frequently mentioned in the sacred writings, and by comparing the scattered notices there, with its manners as we have endeavoured to illustrate them, it will be seen how well they agree. In Leviticus, xi. 14, we find it among the unclean animals forbidden as food to the Jews, doubtless from its impure and disgusting habits. Job alludes to its soaring flight, beyond the sphere of human vision, when he says, ch. xxviii. 7, “ There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen." Isaiah, in allusion to its habits of assembling in flocks, says, ch. xxiv. 15, "There shall the Vultures be gathered, every one with her mate." In Matthew, xxiv. 28, our Saviour alludes to its gathering round the dead, to banquet, when he says, "for wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together." The term eagle, it may be observed, was an indefinite and general title for any large bird of prey; as it stands in the text, it strikingly points out the carrion-loving Vul

ture.

Having thus sketched a general outline of this foulfeeding family, it remains for us to complete the picture, by presenting our readers with a few of the principal

examples; in doing which, we shall merely glance at the generic distinctions; and we would here, once for all, observe, that the genera (or lowest groups) of ornithology are of decidedly inferior value to the genera of mammalia; are formed on less strict and more arbitrary principles; and are rather calculated to check than facilitate the progress of the learner; at all events, they cannot enter into the composition of an elementary treatise.

The CONDOR, (Sarcoramphus gryphus. DUM.) We commence by presenting our readers with a bird which to the heated imagination of the early colonists of South America equalled the celebrated roc of oriental fable; like that imaginary creature, it, too, was found to dwell among the inaccessible precipices of mountains, within whose mines the treasures of Mammon were buried; and, as it sailed from pinnacle to pinnacle of the stupendous Andes, it seemed to proclaim itself the guardian of entombed gold,

"Which far

Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind."

These extravagant opinions have passed away, and we now see the Condor as it is, one of the largest of the Vulture family, it is true, but far inferior to the pictures of credulity.

The Condor belongs to the genus Sarcoramphus, distinguished by the fleshy caruncles or comblike appendages at the base of the beak and on the forehead; the head and neck being completely bare of feathers; this genus is peculiar to the New World, and contains not only the present, but the King of the Vultures, and several others. Though the researches of modern travellers have fairly laid open the history of this bird, yet twenty years ago one or two imperfect specimens were all the "memorials of its existence" which the cabinets of Europe contained. Hence it is no unimportant thing for the Zoological Society to possess a pair of these noble birds living in the rich menagerie, inasmuch as an opportunity is afforded to the scientific inquirer of personal inspection, as well as

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to the public, whose mistakes and prejudices it is ever important to correct. In length the Condor is about three feet six inches, and nine or ten in the expanse of wings; the body is firm and muscular, but the talons are disproportionately feeble; the wings reach to the end of the tail, and the quill feathers are peculiarly strong and springy.

The immense mountain chain, which runs down the continent of South America, is the native strong-hold where these birds dwell in security; in Peru and Chili they are even abundant, but are seldom seen in flocks of more than three or four together. There, in the regions of perpetual snow, and of terrific storms, fifteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, on some isolated pinnacle, some horrid crag, the Condor rears his brood, and looks down upon the plains beneath, yet far away, for food. Like the rest of its family, it subsists on carrion, and gorges itself to disgusting repletion, so as to become incapable of flight. In this state it is often captured, and the Indians are accustomed to expose the dead body of a cow or horse, so as to attract the notice of these birds as they are seen sailing in the sky. Down they sweep, and glut themselves with the luxurious banquet, when lo! the Indians appear with their lassos, throw them with unerring certainty, and gallop away, dragging after them the ensnared victims. These gigantic birds, contrary to what has been asserted, are far from being formidable; they are not ferocious, and their talons are too feeble to lacerate; neither can they carry away, from this cause, weights which prove no impediment to the eagle. The natives do not fear them, and are accustomed, with their children, to sleep near their resort, exposed to attack, were such ever to be apprehended. Of the strength of the Condor, and its tenacity of life, we have many authentic accounts. Captain Head relates the narrative of a struggle between one of his Cornish miners and a Condor, gorged too heavily for flight, and therefore not in the best state for the fray; the miner began by grasping the neck of the bird, which he tried to break, but the bird, roused by the unceremonious attack, struggled so violently as to render

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that no easy matter; nor after an hour's wrestling, though the miner brought away several of the wing feathers in token of victory, does it appear that the bird was dispatched. As a proof of the energy of its vital powers, M. Humboldt relates, “that, during his stay at Riobamba, he was present at some experiments which were made on one by the Indians, who had taken it alive. They first strangled it with a lasso, and hanged it on a tree, pulling it forcibly by the feet for several minutes; but scarcely was the lasso removed, when the bird arose and walked about, as though nothing had occurred to affect it. It was then shot with three balls, discharged from a pistol at less than four paces, all of which entered its body, and wounded it in the neck, chest, and abdomen; it still, however, kept its legs; another ball struck its thigh, and it fell to the ground," nor did it "die of its wounds until after an interval of half an hour."

The feathers of the Condor are so close, firm, and thick, and overlap each other so regularly, as to be almost bullet proof; indeed, unless the ball hits point blank, and at a short distance, it will not enter; and Ulloa asserts, that eight or ten balls have been heard to strike, and glance off without piercing the body. While sailing at ease in the air, the Condor exhibits a noble spectacle of grace and majesty, which cannot be regarded without admiration. To see him on expanded wings wheeling round the topmost summits of the Andes, or sweeping down in a series of gyrations from the upper sky, each circle contracting as the earth is neared, till at last he lights upon his booty, is an imposing sight. And then follows the feast, and the full display of his extraordinary powers in tugging and rending the heavy carcass, till, satiated with his repast, he sinks into stupid inertion.

The general colour of the Condor is a glossy black, with a tinge of gray; the quillfeathers and secondaries white, and a white ruff of downy feathers encircles the base of the neck; this part, as well as the head, is bare of feathers, and covered with a coarse, wrinkled skin, of a dull reddish colour, verging to purplish. A large, firm comb surmounts the top of the head; and the skin at the

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